Dulce et Decorum est 3
by a sigint ninja
Summary: The humans aren't pleased when a Wraith Queen comes to their world hunting a runner.
1. Chapter 1

First piece, I'm working on the second chapter, and please don't flame me. Please, please review though.

Stargate Atlantis is not mine, but I came up with these characters.

And thanks to Lilith on the Gateworld forum for helping me with the first draft.

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So you think you can see inside my mind.  
You probably could if you just took a little time.

Bring Me Down—Pillar

Queen

There are humans waiting by the time I come. I have not seen them free for so long—but whom I am to speak of time? I, whom the others call too young, while they plot to cull my feeding grounds, to destroy my hive. I could tell them, and we would feed, and strengthen, and fight. And once we had won, that galaxy would become like this one. And we would be forced to sleep again.

But that is not now.

There are three humans waiting. Two males, and a female. My brothers wonder as they see the female defer to the older male. I do not. For I know too much.  
"What do you want from us?" The older male is staring at me, and we can see the hatred so easily on his face. He knows how the question will be answered. The younger male is quiet, kneeling behind the others.

"You aided a man we seek." I can see his face pale at that. It is not so hard for him to understand. "You remember," I say in these weak sounds that are all they can use to communicate. They are so alone. But I sense something from him, perhaps the faintest hint of our speech. Just enough to know we came.

He nods, his body twisting as if he cannot decide whether to attack or flee. The female shows even more contempt at our presence. If she continues, I may be forced to kill her. It is obvious she would have no regrets about doing such to me.

I turn my attention back to the older male as he jerks. So much is shown—he wonders why I, why a queen, would hunt a runner. There is so much confusion in his eyes; in the way he shifts his gaze back and forth. It would mean nothing to explain it to him, for the hatred is always there. To be judged by a species that tears itself apart at every opportunity, a species that kill their kind without reason. What an irony that they are our only source of sustenance.

Arel

There are Wraith here. I was a fool to help that man, that runner-now my compassion will destroy my people. Sarla stared at me before, and asked. "What do we do, father?" "I will go meet them." I said. There is no place to hide. We meet the Wraith not far from the village, I Sarla, and her fiancé (how strange that seems) Martak. Several of the speaking males stare at me when I say, "May I speak to your leader?" and I drop my gaze.

Then I see their queen. Skin paler than that of any human, but with only the slightest hint of the bluish green shade of the males. Her dark hair falls halfway down her back, surrounding a face tattooed with thin lines that branch off then connect again, and she wears black leather as the males do.

I nod when she asks if I remember. Then she lifts my face with her feeding hand, and I can feel her sharp nails on my skin. _I am dead?_

"We do not wish to harm you," she says, "but I will not hesitate if it is necessary." Then she drops her hand and rises.

What can I do? If I displease her, we will be culled. And the cullings have been so severe of late-have the Wraith gone mad? But who can understand such monsters? I do not. So I nod again, and quietly, humbly, lead them to my village.

Sarla

No! I will kill them. Kill them slowly, painfully. Amputate their feeding hands and torment them for hours. Why is my father aiding them? They cannot be trusted.There are perhaps two-dozen of the speaking males, the dangerous ones. Do the faceless ones not come on such hunts?

Why are they playing with us? If they will kill us, then do so cleanly. They have no honor! But what fool would expect honor from such animals? Oh. They are letting us hope, so our deaths will be sweeter. And my father does not understand. Wraith cannot be trusted, and his folly could destroy us.

I must destroy their queen. But how? She seems stronger than the others, and I do not doubt that they could kill me easily. Could I do so by stealth? If there is any possibility, I will find it. My death is irrelevant.

Queen

The female is strong. And I have not fed. It disturbs me how easily my mind turns to such things, how difficult it is to resist the hunger. My brothers do not know why I even try. Their leader offers me his quarters, and I accept. It makes me appear more—familiar—to these humans. More comprehensible. The rooms are small, and the bedroom has too many blankets and a window. Two of my guards remain with me, while the others secure the village.

"Is there anything we can do for you?" The human leader says. "My wife has prepared some," he hesitates "food."

I could smell it already. There is a certain enjoyment to such things, and it will take my mind off the hunger. At that thought, I can barely prevent myself from reaching for him. Then I snarl, and he backs away from me. There is still both fear and anger on his face and mind.

"There is still some enjoyment I can gain from your food." I say. "But it is not sustenance. Still, I will accept it—for now."

Tomorrow, the hunt begins.

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	2. Chapter 2

Here it is, please review.

Does anyone not understand the title?

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Can you hear me? Stop, look, listen to my voice,  
It was never my choice to feel all alone  
This is my home  
Back up, you don't know if you've never been here  
You've never been to the place inside, I face my fears  
It takes everything I am

Move, by Thousand Foot Krutch

Arel

I never thought to see a Wraith asleep. This queen, she has dealt with humans before. She can intimidate us, while not making herself so strange that we are desperate. But to see her asleep, curled in my bed, seemingly peaceful. I wonder why she does this. For she seems no older than my darling Sarla. Do the Wraith even have families? All I have ever seen, ever known of them is the monster that feeds in the dark. But such knowledge is not enough to destroy them.

I have found that you can always cause more harm to those you know. But it can also become harder. But what good would there be in the Wraith to find? I can think of nothing and hope to find nothing. And Sarla is angered—thinking that I have some measure of trust towards these Wraith. I am not so foolish as that, and so my wife and I leave to stay at another house.

Queen

The test, the challenge. Few queens have ever slain a runner, never attempted it. My success will shame them. And to attack me for my shaming of them, it would merely add to their difficulties.

My brothers will live. Whether or not I do so—though I would prefer to live. But if I die, they will say I was too young to lead, and another will care for them. They do not see it this way, of course.

And there are still the human female and her mate. If I kill them now, I will likely have to destroy the village as well. Or at least if I slay them without reason…I order my guards away.

It is time to rest now.

Sarla

Where is Martak! Please be in the forest, please, ancestors, he would not have done so without consulting me…yes he would have. Just as I would have, if my chances were not so feeble.

I hear a dark, angered scream come from my father's house. I hope it is the Wraith queen, and that she is dead, and Martak is not.  
It only takes me a few moments to reach the house, and I see four of the male Wraith behind me. Perhaps I have enough time to finish this.

But when I reach the bedroom, I see Martak - my Martak - held up in the air by one pale hand grasped around his throat. Her back is towards me, and I halt and draw my knife. He gasps, then collapses, and she drops him.

I can feel my feet stepping backwards as she turns toward me. There is a curve of ebony blood stretching from her neck onto her shoulder, and it disappears as I watch. Unawares, my hand pulls up the knife and throws it. The knife thuds into her chest, right next to where a human's heart would be, the blade penetrating the skin and bringing more of the dark blood. She does not even look at it, and I begin to understand the enormity of my mistake, of our mistake. I try to force myself to resist as she lifts me, then cocks her head to the side and opens her mouth in a snarl.

"Why must you prove yourself such a fool?" she asks, and I see the expectation of this in her eyes. She wanted this! She wanted to witness my humiliation personally, to taste fear in my eyes. And I know I cannot hide it now.

As I feebly try to pull away the hand clasped about my throat, I find myself relieved as I lose all consciousness.

Queen

They had to prove me correct. The two humans lie unconscious in a corner of the room, with no permanent harm done to them. But something must be done. I cannot allow them to go free.

Why do they delay my hunt?!

Four of my brothers enter the room, and stare at me as I pull the blade from my chest. The wound will heal with time, and perhaps I will feed soon. But not on these two.  
My brothers lift up the bodies. But I will have to remain to deal with them. Foolish humans.

Arel

Why? Sarla, why? Did you trust my judgment so little? Was I such an abhorrent leader as to drive you and Martak to this?

She is not dead yet. But any attempt to save her will only bring the destruction of my village. I cannot do so, cannot be so terrible of a leader as to abandon my people for my child.

This queen is clever. Allowing them to attack her, so that the villagers are not as angered at the executions, so that we can understand how she justifies their deaths. Will she kill them herself? I know how they will die—the Wraith will not waste any source of sustenance now. Sustenance? I cannot afford to think of myself as such.

We will all be forced to watch the execution tomorrow.

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TBC. 


	3. Chapter 3

As I said before, I don't own Stargate Atlantis.

I'm not sure if any Atlantis regulars will be in this.

And if anyone wants to archive this, I'd be very honored.

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I'm too wrong to be you, too right to blush  
And too many times I've not done enough

Hit the Floor, Thousand Foot Krutch

Sarla 

Martak has not spoken to me. He huddles in the corner, staring at the wall, at the Wraith guarding us, muttering things I cannot hear or understand.

"This is not your fault." I say, and he looks toward me for a moment. "It is hers."

One of the guards hears me, and stalks over to us. "The queen has been most lenient to allow your village to live. It was foolish to tempt her."

Lenient? Arriving, ordering us about, and expecting perfect cooperation? What do they define as harshness then? "We are not your animals."

"You are merely prey." The guard snarls, and I do not know which I fear more: the sharp teeth or the way he clenches his feeding hand. Though it is easy to tell which I should fear.

The door opens, and another Wraith enters. He is confident, calm-a leader. His face is marked on one side with tattoos of jagged lines below the eye, and on the forehead. A quick look from him, and the guards leave.

"Come to torment me?" I ask, glancing at Martak. He is unconscious again.

"No. There is no reason to do so."

"Than why are you here?" I am curious now. He seems almost conversational, civilized.

"To ensure that you were not harmed. Your guards are…overzealous." The Wraith walks away from me, then back. "Though you will detest me no matter what."

"You are Wraith. And you imprisoned me."

"And imprisonment is something unique to Wraith?" He snarls, and I find myself no longer so frightened by it. As if it is merely an indication of annoyance, instead of a threat.

"You would not know." I am merely wasting time speaking with him.

He laughs; a low chuckle that seems to come from the back of his throat. "There, you assume too much."

"It is no more than what you deserve." I turn to studying the way the grain twists in the wooden walls. There are dark lines intermixed with the pale wood, and a gray stain from some long eaten food.

"But you do not deserve it?" He stops, and waits for a moment. I do not respond, and he turns and leaves, the dark leather of his coat swinging around his legs.

Arel

I spent the entire night praying to the ancestors, praying that Martak, that Sarla would be freed. Perhaps they understand enough to accept that I prayed more for Sarla than Martak-but how could I consider myself a parent otherwise?

One of the Wraith comes, and motions for me to follow him. What else can I do? But the executions are not planned for yet.

He brings me to the Queen, and I kneel, wishing both to beg more mercy and to kill her as slowly as possible. But assault or weakness would bring retribution against my people.

I look into her eyes, wondering at the strange golden shade, the narrow slits for pupils. Something cold is touching my mind, drawing out my senses. My body pulls back, and I hear a soft, sharp voice in my mind.

Listen.

It feels dark and cool and strange. Much stronger than when I had sensed the Wraith before. And now there are thoughts, memories, impressions. There is regret from the Queen, and I trace the moments attached to it. The very idea that she could even feel such; I am shaken. Then I stumble into a child's memory, of isolation, fear…hunger.

I double over, retching at the last. It is no mere memory, but her current state. And still, regret. Two feelings intertwined with each other through every level of her mind.

"Why do you do this?" I ask.

She says nothing, but I feel the hunger rising, feel the steely sense of her determination. There is no other choice. She does not wish to harm us, but she must if forced. And we have come so close to forcing her.

Her guards lift me up and remove me from her presence. That the Wraith can be so constrained by others of their kind never occurred to me before.

But that does not mean I will aid her.

Queen

Why did I do so with the human? I hoped that he would accept what I must do, but is that the only reason?

No matter. Now I must deal with the other humans. To see them kneeling before me, bound, in the center of the village—it is so hard to suppress the hunger any longer. But I will continue to do so.

The remaining villagers are ringed around, glancing first towards the bound ones, then away as if afraid. Some moved towards them, then halted. What a strong fear they have.

I motion to one of my brothers, and he walks over to the human male, and feeds. I can sense relief emanating from one, and fear from the other. Soon only a husk remains.

Sarla

Nothing. I cannot even bring myself to weep as Martak dies. Then a Wraith steps before me, and plunges his feeding hand onto my chest.

Then I scream, knowing every year as it is taken from me.

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Again, TBC. Please review. 


	4. Chapter 4

Apologies for taking so long. And thanks to everyone who's given me a review.

I do not own Stargate Atlantis, etc, etc.

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We fight to live, we live to fight  
And tonight you'll hear my battlecry  
We live our lives on the front lines  
We're not afraid of the fast times  
These days have opened up my eyes  
And now I see where the threat lies

Frontline, Pillar

Sarla

I expected to die. And to die as a meal. But now, I'm gasping, lying on the ground as the Queen speaks.

"You will be allowed to live." She cocks her head to one side. "For you attacked me in defense of your mate."

If I had the strength, I would have spit on her. As it is, I lay silent as others carry me away.

Queen

Perhaps I showed too much mercy. Perhaps I should not have chosen this village to survive the cullings. And perhaps, the female has learned to despise me more.

But finally, to the hunt. The other villages are too far away for the runner to have reached yet. It will not be difficult to catch him before he reaches them.

I find myself tracing the path at first, then I find where he left it. A few broken branches, crushed plants, it is much the same as tracking some animal. And that, I have practiced much at.

It will take some time to catch him. But in this world, this forest, there is some familiarity to the scents and sounds of this place. Though I should not obtain such enjoyment from that.

Arel

I do not know what I should feel: anger, gratefulness, hate, joy? For Sarla is alive, and Martak is dead. But the Wraith took years from Sarla as well. And I hate myself for being unable to hate the Wraith Queen any longer.

So, after the Queen goes on her hunt, and the other Wraith leave the village, I unearth the weapon the runner left me. It is a gun, cold, metallic, and he said it would even kill a Wraith. May the ancestors give me the courage to use it.

But first, I will have to find the queen.

Queen

The runner is wounded. He will not have gotten far. And I have only hunted for a day. It was some beast that injured him, and its corpse, along with his dried blood, will aid my chase.

I see the trap just before I would have stepped on it. This human is clever. Otherwise, he would have died before now. How he managed to make a rope, especially a noose, in such time, is surprising.

So hungry. It had been worse once before, but now I also feel the remnants of the knife wound adding to the pain. I cannot bury it anymore, cannot ignore the one thing my body requires.

Arel

How could I forget my own weakness? As if I could keep pace with a hunting Wraith. But, she is tired, and her prey wounded. Perhaps she just left the cave an hour ago. Perhaps I can kill her before my will fades.

Perhaps Sarla yet lives. Yes, think of your daughter. I risk too much by thinking on this Wraith, this Wraith who spared my village against all the needs of her kind. No, not all the needs—some of us must remain to provide for later cullings.

The queen dies. She. Dies. Ancestors, may I catch her before she feeds.

Sarla

My father has been gone over a day now, or so they've told me. And the Wraith are gone from my village, though I heard the faint scream of one of their darts not long ago. They cull the other villages, and I can do nothing.

And Martak. To think of that—no. I am angered that I am alive, and more angered that I am grateful for it. But I still would die to destroy that queen. And that, that must be why my father has gone. He would not beg. He could not beg. And how could they return what was taken from me?

As if they would ever do so.

Queen

He is so close now, and the other human—the male from the village, is not far behind. I may still survive this. And the runner realizes I am there, and runs, pulls up some sort of weapon and shoots me with it. I merely snarl, and follow. One of us will die.

Another shot, and I halt for a moment. There is too much pain, as my body raids all energy to continue on. I move behind a tree, and he misses when he shoots again. Then, he moves closer, it is easy to sense hope from him—he thinks my strength gone.

That is wrong. I knock his weapon from his hand, and he blocks my feeding hand once, twice. He pays less attention to my other, and it hits him in the chest, knocking him down.

I rip the covering from his chest and feed. His life begins to renew mine, and I scream my triumph as the hunger retreats. There is much strength to him, and I am grateful for it, as my wounds begin to heal.

The other human comes, and I look to see a weapon in his shaking hand. But it is not me he seems to fear.

And I hear the voices of many of my kind, as their hiveship appears above the planet. They dared come to my feeding grounds.

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TBC. Reviews, please. 


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